


timed

by Neo5



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, bstorm saves quark and they live on the LL happily ever after, it's...fluff, vague descriptions of nightmare horrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neo5/pseuds/Neo5
Summary: He was in the right time and place, but then everything went horribly wrong.
Relationships: Brainstorm/Quark (Transformers)
Kudos: 11





	timed

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the tumblr tfrarepairweek where the first prompt was intimacy/time and this one kinda got both in it but I'm two days late with the most cliche snippet ever.

He messed up. He messed up and they caught up to him. For a heavier flier, Cyclonus sure is fast, and Brainstorm nowhere near a good enough flier to lose him among the tall buildings they speed by. The only hope is to be faster, but he feels so sluggish and disoriented as he cuts through the foggy skies of Rodion that he doesn’t even realize he is being shot at before it’s too late. The missiles hit him, and he doesn’t even feel the pain, just an ice cold emptiness in a spot that once held armor and sensitive systems, and he’s spinning.

He messed up. He had been so close, it was the right time and place, but he had somehow managed to waste precious time. Giving Rodimus and his ragtag group a chance to catch up, to spot him. To send Cyclonus out to hunt him down. To keep him from--

Somehow he’s on the ground, intact. Well for most parts. His hip and right leg are numb. That same icy cold tingling all over the sensor net where there should be a feeling limb. It’s hard to focus on anything with the fog on his mind but he spots a familiar red and orange figure. And half a dozen others a blink later. Dread creeps to his spark, which makes it spin faster as he attempts to curl up smaller.

Absurdly enough, when someone points a gun at his face ( Cylconus? Rodimus? Maybe Whirl? ) he only wonders what happened to the city. There’s nothing around them now. Except vast emptiness and darkness. And he can’t bring himself to be afraid of the weapon that he’s staring down, when he’s terrified of what will happen to Quark now. All alone. Unassuming of the fate that’s waiting for him.

The weapon is fired, and he only feels numb ice spreading in his head.

Brainstorm startles out of it when he feels like he’s blacking out, drawing in a rapid vent of air that feels too warm. There’s noise that seems to echo all around him, a tremble in his core that wants to ripple out. Someone’s speaking over the roar of sounds. A soft touch tilts his helm to the side and he’s met with gentle blue optics that glow in the dim lighting, a light frown adorns the pale faceplates and for a moment Brainstorm can do nothing but stare, suspended in his terror.

A thumb pets gently over his cheek cable, and the smoother edge of his jaw, and hesitantly the jet lets out the gush of air he had been holding in. The noise turns out to be his cooling fans, which were trying desperately to cool down his core temperature while he forgot how to vent, echoing louder in the snug corner where the berth was set.

A soft and concerned voice speaks again, and it takes far too long for it’s owner and meaning to register. Quark. It was Quark. Lying down next to him on his side, cheek pressed against a pillow. Looking concerned and trying to calm him down. Gently petting over his cheek and telling him to just focus on his voice. And he did. Shuttering his optics to be able to concentrate better, or to try and control the tears, leaning his helm into that soft touch like he’s afraid it’s going to be taken away and this is the only moment he can indulge in it. And slowly he can make out words again.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just remember to vent. Vent in….and out. Can you feel when I’m cycling air? Just try to copy tha--”

A strong wave of emotion takes the jet’s EM field, and the smaller mech is interrupted when Brainstorm suddenly draws him closer, wrapping his arms around him tightly and buries his face to the side of his helm. But it wasn’t the first time they woke up like this, and Quark wasn’t thrown off by the need for physical affection and affirmation, or the panic and sadness, which he had already learned to expect. Carefully he tried to wiggle enough room so he could wrap his arms around Brainstorm as well, ex-venting loudly as he tried to relax in the tight hold and the bombardment of the jet’s frantic field.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he then asked after a moment of quiet. His question was met with silence, but he gave the other a minute anyways, gently tracing the tips of his digits against heated teal plating.

“Or we could go for a walk. Shake the jitters out of your frame,” he suggested gently, but he wasn’t surprised when instead Brainstorm started to talk. He always did. Sometimes it just took a bit of nudging, and other times a bit of patience.

“I couldn’t save you,” came the weak admission, fear and defeat flickering all over the jet’s EM field at the near whisper. The arms around his frame tightened minutely, and Quark just hugged him back as best as he could while covered by a clingy jet.

“Mm-m, but you did anyways,” he reminded the other, who's next in-vent hitched with emotion and a suppressed sob. Another moment of quiet, which Quark used to gently pet the other’s plating again, occasionally drawing his fingers over the bottom rim of a folded wing where he could reach it. And the panicked whine of the fans had already started to calm down, which he took only as a good sign even when the jet still felt warm against him. More so than usually.

“I didn’t have enough time,” Brainstorm finally spoke, not quite a whisper anymore but laced with that same defeated tone as before. He sounded so certain of his failure that it nearly broke Quark’s spark in two. His bright and confident partner brought so low, sounding so defeated. “A-and they caught me before I found you, and they-- and--”

Before he could work himself up into a panic again, Quark interrupted him gently and forced him to break those down spiraling circles that he tended to get caught in. Nuzzling the side of his helm gently against the jet’s to distract him. “Shhhh. Brainstorm, you’re right here. In our habsuite. And I’m right here. No one is coming for either one of us. I promise.”

Brainstorm might not have tried to argue him, but his field betrayed him completely, radiating uncertainty and self-deprecation. Plating pulled in tense like he expected his mistakes to catch up to him on any second and hurt him.

“I miscalculated and- and I just didn't have enough time to find you,” he admitted quietly, determined to stay on this track until something managed to shake him off it. Ready to punish himself for something that didn’t even happen simply because he had been so afraid of failure for so long. But Quark was here to remind him of the reality.

“Hey, can you look at me?” he asked from the jet, nudging his face away from hiding so he would have to take a look at his smaller partner, and the reality. “Just for a little bit, dear. There you go,” he smiled with the praise, the brightened yellow and soft blue of their optics casting a light on their faces that made it possible to make out expressions in the darkness. His soft and loving smile, and Brainstorm’s almost ashamed and shy frown at how emotional he was being, avoiding direct optic contact. Quark reached a hand out and gently pet the other over his cheek with his thumb again, other digits curling up over the line of his jaw.

His optics wandered down to admire the maskless face for a moment, thumb tracing the edge of the cheek vent with care. Before he looked up again, trying to radiate pride and affection so strongly that Brainstorm’s field would be forced to comply and soften up against his. And he removed his hand from the other’s face, and instead went to gently pry one of the jet’s hands off his frame so he could bring it up to his own face, leaning his cheek into the hesitant touch with a fond smile.

“See? I am right here. I am very much alive and present. Thanks to your efforts,” Quark told him, and looked him straight in the optics. Brainstorm visibly hesitated, before he started to give in, flicking looks at Quark’s face and his hand that now gently moved to cup the cheek properly. Grounded in the knowledge that no matter how he felt currently, his partner was not going anywhere. He was present, and content, and more solid than anything in his dreamscape had been.

Finally he seemed to be able to look up, looking more ashamed than shaken by now as he drank in the warmth from Quark’s gaze. And Quark’s smile only warmed with adoration at that, and he shifted on the berth so that they could be face to face, Brainstorm’s arm still wrapped tightly around him, the other falling from his cheek to rest on his waist to support him.

Quark looks over his face, slowly admiring, one hand now placed on the side of Brainstorm’s helm with his thumb pressed against the slim vent slits. He tries to look as reassuring as he can when their optics finally meet again, only open wonder meeting him from the jet’s side.

“And no matter what the nightmares say, you succeeded. I’m here with you now,” he assures, and leans over to gently kiss the other who yields under him with a stuttering and gentle ex-vent. It’s short and sweet, a gentle press of lip plates against one another. And afterwards Quark pulls away only so he can slot their foreheads together, looking the other in the optic once more as he murmurs.

“And we have all the time in the world.”


End file.
